When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(63)

“Oh no. What did she say?”

He thought of his mama’s comments and decided to keep them to himself. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does. It puts pressure on you. Everyone needs to chill. Not Franny. But the mamas putting thoughts in her head. I’m sorry I’m not there to help you with all this.”

He sighed. “I’m glad you care enough to want to be. But I got it. I’m used to the gossip in this neighborhood.”

“Talking with adults involved is one thing. Completely different when it comes to kids . . . if you ask me.”

Brooke wasn’t wrong.

“I’m at baggage claim. I need to put the phone down to get my luggage.”

“Okay, cara.”

“Luca?”

“Yes?”

“I miss you already.”

He smiled as he disconnected the call.

Brooke was right.

Everyone needed to chill and let them be what they were going to be in their time.



Bret Downes came from serious money.

There was nothing small scale about the campaign they were putting together. The man already thought he was up there with Versace, Prada, and Gucci.

He wasn’t.

Nayla fell right into the size-zero runway model vibe and thought his impressions of high fashion, bold makeup, and flashy urban backgrounds were the way to go.

Mayson, with his move to Boise, saw the limitations of Downes’s reach if they only marketed to the upper Manhattan crowd.

Kayleigh did a whole lot of agreeing with what everyone else was saying. The girl either didn’t have an opinion, was afraid to voice it, or both.

Portia’s gaze fell on Brooke.

And Brooke was watching Downes and his reactions to the ideas being passed around.

“Here is the problem that I see,” Brooke started. “Our job is to give you a campaign that you love. Design ads and media pages and billboards that will put your name on the fashion map. But what I think you want from us, and what will actually get you on that map, are two different things right now. A few years ago, I’d have agreed with Nayla. Give New York a run. But the world has been slow in opening back up, I’m not sure focusing only on the urban socialite is the way to approach this. I say we dip a toe in that water, so in a couple years, when New Year’s Eve bashes are back in full fashion, you’re a name people will consider.”

Downes was listening.

“How do you suggest we do that?” Nayla asked.

“It starts with the models.”

Mayson knew where she was going.

Portia did, too. It was something she’d talked about before and often found the door closed in her face.

“Bret, look at the women in this room. Would you say any of us are overweight?”

He looked at each of them, then back to Brooke. “No. You’re all . . .”

“I’m not looking for compliments. But none of us would be put in your clothes and walk the runway. Why? Because no one here is a size two or less. If you’ve paid attention at all in recent years, you’d see that the industry is moving away from designing and modeling women in outfits that only twelve-year-olds can wear. If you want a campaign that will get you noticed, and sell your clothing, you must be inclusive. That starts with the models. Age, size . . . body type. Give us the freedom to explore this path, and let’s see what we can come up with.”

Downes was silent as he leaned back in his chair, his pen tapping against his knee.

Brooke half expected him to stand up and leave right then, dismissing her ideas completely.

“Portia?” he asked.

“This team will give you what you want, Bret. Brooke’s suggestion might just give you what you need to come back to us next year for more.”

Downes tossed his pen on the table in front of him and stood. “All right. Let’s see what you come up with in the next two weeks. If it starts to look like I’m catering to Walmart and Target, I’ll find another firm.”

He shook Portia’s hand before walking out the door.

Once it was shut behind him, Portia turned to the rest of them.

“Two weeks. I want to see everything before you show it to Downes. Nayla, make sure there is enough of the flash that he wants. Brooke, keep it real so the man sells something. Mayson, make sure it turns the heads of everyone looking . . . and Kayleigh . . .” The girl sat taller. “I did not hire you onto this team to nod and agree with everyone. If you have an opinion, voice it. Be prepared to hear it sucks and work to make it better. Understood?”

Kayleigh’s smile fell. “Yes.”

“I fly out in the morning. I’ll be back for the final in two weeks. Let’s do this.”

Portia walked out the door, and Brooke released a breath.

“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing,” Nayla voiced the second Portia was gone.

Mayson sat back and laughed. “Brooke’s been pitching this for years.”

“We have an opportunity here to influence a designer to let out a stitch here, change a fabric there, and stop making women believe they have to starve themselves for fashion.”

“Most of his designs are already in production.”

“Production of sizes greater than a two. We’ll be fine.”

Nayla looked at her watch. “Meet in my room in an hour.”